


a tserissen gemit iz shver tsum hailen

by VioletLopez



Series: only the good die young [2]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Idealization of Suicide, Sad, Suicidal Thoughts, Weird Ending, i only wrote this bc i wanted to project sorry yall, les is sad, self destructive thought patterns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 17:42:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17006202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletLopez/pseuds/VioletLopez
Summary: a broken spirit is hard to heal.-Les feels lost, maybe- hurt, maybe- sad, maybe, but definitely not okay.-this fits in the storyline of "grass is greener when you grow it yourself"; set about a year before that story starts.





	a tserissen gemit iz shver tsum hailen

The city was loud. It was always loud, every second of every minute of every day of every month of every year it was loud, but tonight it seemed like it was louder than normal, with every noise grinding its way to his ears and clawing at them, scratching him, tearing him apart; It sounded the world imploding on itself- constant, incessant, awful noise-

Les lay on his bed, feeling like the universe was falling in and crushing him into pieces, but he couldn’t find it in him to move. He stared at the ceiling and breathed out slowly, inhaled slowly, pausing in between each and wondering if it’d be better to stop altogether. No- he didn’t have the energy to move. In, out. In, out.

He could hear Everett in his head, yelling, screaming, so loud, so much noise, so many words he didn’t want to hear. “You’re wrong,” he murmured aloud. His hand twitched, instinctively reaching for his phone- but who for? Not Everett, obviously. Isaac would be with Landon, and Les didn’t think he could handle that.

Did Landon know?

Did Everett tell him?

Les shifted and closed his eyes. The city was loud. He wanted to get high and forget the overwhelming urge consuming him to peel off his own skin, to atone for his mistakes, to rip away what he was and become something new, something better, someone whose hands didn’t shake and whose jacket didn’t smell like vodka and weed and whose eye wasn’t bruised.

He reached up to poke at it. It stung. Everett had hit him. Everett, after three years, after promises and trust and love- love? Les had to wonder, now, because you don’t hurt the people you love. Everett had hit him. His eye was bruised; the city was loud.  
He pushed himself up and staggered to the bathroom. He couldn’t walk straight- he was lightheaded. He hadn’t slept. He needed to sleep. How long had it been? What time was it? He couldn’t find it in him to care. He’d scraped away every emotion in him by now, scared himself numb while being locked in his room and slicing away at his own psyche with self-hatred and hazy memories. He hadn’t been thinking straight; he hadn’t been sober. He would have thought it through if he had been, right? He wouldn’t have yelled. Had he really lost the most important person in his life because he let the weed fuck up his brain? He was out of control. Where had he gone so wrong?

He stared at himself in the mirror. _Damn,_ he thought, scoffing at himself. _No wonder he let you go. You’re a fucking mess._ He reached out with one hand to wipe at his eyes. They hurt from being open too long. The bags underneath looked painted on. He groaned out loud, straightening up for a second. His back popped. He winced. He could hear a door slam. His father was home, probably. He kept staring at his reflection. He hardly recognized himself- his features seemed twisted, warped like he’d been taken out of his body and shoved into someone sort of the same but not entirely. Was that really him?

“Nice going, Lester,” he muttered bitterly. “First you lose Ev, then you lose your mind.”

His father was yelling about something- work? He couldn’t be bothered to care. The noise, though, it grated at him, it made him wince and shut his eyes and breathe quicker, the noise was so ceaseless, so loud, tearing at his tired mind and yanking away his thoughts, ripping away his peace, why couldn’t the world shut up for a moment- why couldn’t it just slow down for a second- he stumbled to the bathtub, yanked at the handle- why was the world so loud- the cosmos was obliterating itself, was making him a vertex of destruction, slamming against his ears- the water running was loud too- so much noise all around him- so much chaos- too many sounds, too many colours, too much, too much- the tub was full, his tired fingers fumbled for the handle again- the water was gone and every other sound became louder- filling in the absent vibrations- he plunged his head under the water.

It was cold. He kept his eyes shut and breathed out. The world was quiet under the water; quiet and still. The pain that had been garnering in his temple began to dissipate. _It’s okay,_ his mind whispered to him softly, and he opened his eyes and saw the light on the bottom of the tub. It was light from a cheap, uncovered lightbulb that flickered sometimes and had to be smacked so that it would work, and the bathtub was old and looked its age; but somehow, the light against the white wasn’t old or broken, it was sort of pretty. He couldn’t breathe, but the light looked pretty-

A hand gripped the back of his shirt collar and yanked him up. He fell back on his hands, looking up in surprise. The noise returned, but it seemed muted- how had it been so bad, just a minute before?

“Les?” David knelt down next to him. “Les, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Les murmured, looking up at the ceiling. “I’m okay. It was just loud.”

“So you stuck your head under water?” David asked. He sounded worried. Les nodded vaguely, not really paying attention.

“Made it quieter,” he muttered. He looked over at his brother. He looked like he was going to cry. “Do you think I was trying to kill myself?”

“Were you?” David countered, and reached out, smoothing Les’ hair off his forehead. Les paused.

“I don’t know.”

It was just so loud.


End file.
